


The Victoria Punk

by H_E_A_R_T_H



Category: One Piece
Genre: Other, Pre sabaody, Slow Burn, adding tags as I go, side character development
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H_E_A_R_T_H/pseuds/H_E_A_R_T_H
Summary: Hirschfield Mazinai was always a stickler for the rules, until their unruly sister dragged them onto the crew of the Kidd pirates.
Relationships: Eustass Kid & Killer, Eustass Kid/Original Female Character(s), Killer (One Piece)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The water surrounding the island was black and thick, and when the storm sloshed it around, the waves erupted into thick clumps of sludge. Eustass Kidd was disgusted when he’d realized it wasn’t just the poor lighting, but the sand on the beach was stained a dirty colour from where the water (if you could even call it that) washed up. Even more revolting was the fact that he’d most definitely ingested some when the boat he’d been sporting earlier on in the formerly peaceful day had come to pathetic destruction after a too large wave had come upon them.

Killer fainted almost immediately after pulling the both of them on the beach, and Kidd spent his sweet time gagging and hacking out as much of the murky water as he could. Once he’d felt empty and stupid, Kidd turned his attention to his best friend. His blond hair was coloured black from the water, and Kidd wondered how hard he’d have to scrub to get the colour out. Sometimes Killer would complain about his hair staining red from blood.

More alarming than his hair was the wound on Killer's side. They’d just narrowly evaded Marines on the island they’d been camping on prior, escaping with a sad excuse for a boat and only a small amount of rations. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a single bandage on board, so Killer sucked it up and watched the clouds roll on by.

Now that they’d made it to land it was Kidd’s time to take the reins of the situation. Killer was out cold, shivering and breathing shallow, so he’d be out of commission for a while. 

Kidd took a moment to collect himself, mentally and physically, before he dragged himself over to his buddy. The sand stuck to his skin and hair like leeches, Kidd could practically hear him complaining in the future. The wound on his side ranged from his hip to the upper rib cage, a little lower than his armpit. It’d been bleeding for quite a while now, Killer was dangerously pale, and when Kidd went to pick him up, chilling to the touch. The man wondered if it was from the water or blood loss.

Kidd put Killer’s arm over his shoulder, hoisting him up easily. His feet dragged along the sand as they went, leaving a trail. He didn’t even know where they could go, but it was pissing rain and it was making Kidd feel weak. Even if Kidd hadn’t felt like he’d went through the wringer after the Marine ambush on the other island, then his near-drowning experience, the rain was still a fucking bitch. They’d need to find shelter before even considering Killer’s condition.

The island was bare of very much nature, only flat land that was either cracked dirt or yellowed grass that looked like it’d shatter and blow away if the wind raged on any harder. The good thing about the bareness was that it was easy to spot the village nearby. It was late and the weather was shit anyway, so there wasn’t anyone outside.

When the village neared it became apparent just how poorly the houses were made. Cheap paint peeled off the walls, and with each gush of wind, the houses would all creak in unison. Kidd would’ve guessed the place was abandoned, except one of the houses had smoke spewing from its chimney, and there were windows with light filtered behind thick curtains.

The first establishment Kidd came across that wasn’t a house was a small bakery, although it looked more like a prison than anything else. The only reason he’d known was the decomposing sign that hung above the shop, rattling on its chains from the wind, looking dangerously close to being blown away.

The windows were open, Kidd only had to push the blinds aside and hoist one leg over another through a window sill. Kidd did his best to drag Killer inside, incidentally banging his head along the top, the bottom catching the back of Killer’s knees and causing Kidd to tug none too lightly to get the man’s full body indoors. Once the two were successfully shielded from the rough weather, Kidd dragged the blond off to prop against a wall, banging his hip on a table in the dark and promptly beginging to curse until he was winded.

The room was musty and pitch black, and Kidd couldn’t figure out for the life of him how to turn on a nearby gas lamp so he gave up. Manoeuvring through the room in the dark was certainly a task and a half, because every time Kidd thought he was getting somewhere, he’d bump into a shelf or some table. He counted two potted plants that he’d broken, one of which he’d trampled over the dirt of and literally felt his feet crush the life out of the branches.

Eventually, after pushing through several tables and plants, Kidd made his way behind the counter. There were paper bags folded neatly on shelves beneath the tabletop, labelled in messy writing Kidd probably couldn’t have read even if there was a spotlight trained on each letter. He took every bag he could fit in his hands, then wet a towel in the sink and took a second dry one to tend to Killer as best he could.

Tending to Killer is easier said than done. The second the damp cloth met the wound, the man bound up in shock, hands reaching out to stop Kidd.

“Damn it, sit still for once,” he grit out, pushing the blond down by a shoulder as he dabbed at the festering wound. “I got you bread or some shit, I don’t know what’s in the bags. Eat something so you don’t mess me up.”

Killer complied slowly and wordlessly, moving an arm out to drag a bag towards them. He pulled out one of many custard tarts, eating slowly, jaw clenching when Kidd was particularly rough. Once he’d finished, Kidd ripped off sections of Killer’s already shredded shirt, wrapping them tightly around his chest.

The wound was bound to get infected, the two knew for a fact. Kidd wasn’t the best at cleaning wounds, and Killer’s hands were too weak and shaky to do anything more than bringing a custard tart to his mouth and barely force it down. Neither said the obvious, they only sat in the grim truth that they were dealt a shit hand at life, letting the idea simmer and marinate and rest like an unshakable weight on their broad shoulders.

Kidd grabbed a bag of his own, finding four apple fritters. He shovelled them into his mouth, trying to drown out his thoughts with the sound of chewing. The wind raged on outside, and as the building rattled along with their bones, Kidd leaned against Killer. He gave off almost no body heat, and Kidd nestled himself so he was pressed against him, wishing he could give Killer some of his. With the way the weather was, Kidd thought his temperature wasn’t any better. It was the thought that counted, Kidd thought bitterly.

“Hey, who’s in there?” The voice was gruff, originating somewhere outside. Killer perked up, except he was in no condition to fight, and Kidd felt he was probably nearing the same state, as much as he’d never admit it. “C’mon, come out, bugger!”

Kidd didn’t waste his time dealing with the idiot who decided to call them out. Instead, he let loose a pulse of his Conqueror's Haki, hearing a body drop outside. So Kidd only shrugged, continuing to eat, eyeing Killer whenever he heard him struggle to swallow, but he always managed. Soon they plowed through the food, bleeding the bakery dry, left fuller than they’d been in months, maybe longer. 

—-

When Kidd woke up all he heard was yelling.

The sun filtered in through the curtains, right into his eyes, causing him to recoil and collect himself for a moment. Then he remembered the earthy smell on the air and the gross feeling the black water left on him. 

Kidd ignored the people around him for a moment and looked over at Killer. Despite being a light sleeper he was still folded over with his hands pressed under a cheek, breathing shallowly, sounding more like soft wheezing. The cloth tied around him was stained with new blood, but at least it was dry.

There was an older woman in tears at the counter, ranting at some men who stood around threateningly. When Kidd sat fully all the attention switched from the state of the room to him. A man nearby flexed, cracked his knuckles, and bent to Kidd’s height. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He sounded like a growling dog seconds from pouncing, but Kidd wasn’t afraid of any fucking dog. “I ain’t ever seen your sorry face around these parts. You a stowaway or something?”

It was only when Kidd’s lips pursed did he realize just how exhausted he was. It was like his body was dragging him back to the cold, dirty floor, begging for a couple more minutes. Kidd only blinked heavily for several moments, looking back at the man dumbly.

The man sighed, the sound reverberated gravelly in his throat. “I don’t know how the fuck these half-dead brats knocked out Akimitsu, but there’s no one else,” he said, standing up. “I’ll deal with ‘em, good luck with all that baking, grams.”

There was a soft chattery response from the old woman, but Kidd wasn’t given time to see. He was hoisted over the man’s shoulder like a sack of rice. Kidd’s head made contact with the man’s shoulder blade roughly, and he had to blink away stars for quite a while until he saw dirt beneath them. Looking over, Killer was over the man’s other shoulder. Kidd knew they were probably being taken to their graves, but he didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. All he hoped was that they weren’t tossed into the sea. The waters around here were disgusting to look at, let alone rot in. He’d much prefer being left out to decay, vultures pecking at his remains violently. Killer probably didn’t have a preference, Kidd thought it would be a neat question to ask if they survived this mess.

As much as Kidd wanted to lose consciousness and ignore the helplessness he felt, with all the noise around him, he couldn’t. There were many more people outside than yesterday. Every few seconds the man carrying them would greet someone in good spirits, sometimes stopping for a moment to hold a conversation and then dismiss himself. It was a wonder how so many good-natured people could live in such a crummy place.

The conversations were white noise for a while, keeping him awake but not necessarily meaning anything to Kidd. That was until a pair of frail hands wrapped themself around his waist and gave a solid tug. 

Kidd was seeing stars again, sprawled half on the ground and half over someone. His entire being pulsed in pain, but at least he wasn’t hungry anymore. It took a moment to register Killer at his side, groaning in pain. After that he was able to comprehend words, as well as the growing crowd.

“They’re just some stowaways from a trade ship,” the man tried to write off. “Don’t be stupid, girl! They’re outsiders who-”

Their defence stood up, standing in front of Kidd and Killer. She stood taller than the burly man and had muscles that pulled her sweater tight against her biceps. “They’re probably just some teens.” The woman’s voice was like the low roll of a drum, head-turning and casually powerful. “They’re half-dead anyway, at least give ‘em a chance to defend themselves before you decide they’re dead meat!”

“There ain’t nothing to defend,” the man explained, which Kidd thought was fair. “Grams found them passed out on her floor with crumbs covered on their fat asses.”

The woman turned, face red, smoke practically spilling from her ears. She kneeled, staring down at the fabric around Killer’s abdomen that was stained with fresh blood. “Grams can just go bake up a storm, it’s what she does best,” the woman stated firmly. “These boys are gonna die soon, probably would’ve already been dead if they didn’t loot Grams.”

The man’s brows rose in shock, then narrowed dangerously. A woman stepped up, a child in tow. “Let Oshizu be,” she said. “That sister of hers can heal them up nice. When they’re up and at it, then you can deal with ‘em.”

“I wasn’t waiting for no answer,” the woman, Oshizu, countered as she began to help Killer up, throwing one of his arms around her shoulders. “These boys were coming with me whether you liked it or not.”

The man and the mother sighed in unsurprised unison. “Go on, hun,” the mother urged, ignoring the man’s heated glare. “I’ll speak with him, you go make sure those two are taken care of, hm?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Oshizu brushed her off, then looked down at Kidd. Pain spiderwebbed up from his toes, ricocheting off of every joint until the pain ranged all the way up into a pulsating headache behind his eyes. “Can someone take the redhead?”

To no one’s surprise, not a soul moved. Kidd would have stood himself, but his vision was already blurry to begin with. To top it all off, each time he blinked his vision would blacken for several seconds. Oshizu’s tired sigh said she expected this result.

While she held Killer, Oshizu knelt down and stacked Kidd’s arm over Killer’s, hoisting him up on her other side. Kidd’s stomach lurched, he hoped against all odds he wouldn’t lose the first taste of proper food he’d had in ages.

Oshizu moved fairly quickly and didn’t falter under the boys’ weights. She probably would’ve had an easier time throwing them over her shoulder like the other man did, Kidd guessed she was probably trying to be gentle. From the woman’s height, the boys’ feet only barely grazed the floor, and they weren’t jostled very much along the way.

From this position, Kidd could properly see the people passing by. They’d stop and stare in shock, but some seemed used to the sight. They’d wave at Oshizu and greet her normally as if two half-dead teenage boys weren’t hanging off of her like limp dolls. Kidd came to the conclusion that everyone on this island was batshit crazy.

“Go to sleep,” Oshizu said, velvet voice roiling unnecessarily soothingly. “You’re safe in my hands, I’ll make sure your buddy’s taken care of first. Y’all are gonna get through this, cross my heart.”

The fact she’d suggested resting made Kidd want to do the exact opposite. He would’ve done just that if he hadn’t been nodding off already.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killer has an unusual wakeup, and eats breakfast with Mazinai and Oshizu while they pry to get to know him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a small mistake with the tags that I just fixed! I made a mistake with post/pre, this story is actually PRE sabaody, not post! Sorry for any misonceptions, if any.

Killer woke up to heated arguing as his wounds were being tended to, blinking his hair out of his eyes blearily. The women over him didn’t even falter as he roused from his sleep, an arm draping itself over his eyes to filter out the light. It wasn’t necessarily bright, it was probably only a lamp, but it didn’t particularly help Killer’s pulsating headache.

“They needed help, they were going to be killed!” One of the women exclaimed, her voice rich and low enough to come across as soothing This was probably the only woman Killer had met that yelled softly, still managing to sound kind and collected while putting her entire chest into her argument. “They’ve got nowhere else, there ain’t shelter for miles! Even if they found somewhere to stay, they’d be found and killed quick. At least treating them here we’d give them a fighting chance.”

“They stole from a helpless old lady, Oshizu. Dressing this one’s wounds should be more than enough to see ‘em on their way.” This woman was the one dressing Killer’s wounds, he guessed from the closer proximity of her voice. While her voice was higher in pitch, she spoke with a definitive tone that screamed authority and demanded respect, matching Oshizu’s heavy vocal presence with her tone. “We can’t be wasting food on some outlaws, sis. Even if the folks wouldn’t judge, we can’t be wasting our supplies on the likes of them.”

“You need to stop with this whole sticking out for your own and only your own thing you got going on,” Oshizu said lightly, her voice warming. “This can’t be a nice wake-up call, can it? You hungry, thirsty?”

Killer tried not to grunt out in response, except words failed to formulate in his mind. He only gestured vaguely with his hand, not moving his arm from over his face. Oshizu let out a lighthearted chuckle in response.

“I’ll warm some bread and turkey for him and his buddy, you play nice, you hear me, young lady?” After Oshizu spoke, the sound of a door closing followed.

The moments following were filled with awkward silence as Killer’s wound was worked on. He felt much better than the day before, the food from before had probably helped with that. Another factor playing into his relaxation had to have been the nimble hands working delicately at his side. The woman’s touch felt soft. Every other time Killer had been worked on, he’d had to have bite down pain, sometimes biting down on belts to stifle his screams. His wound must’ve been numbed somehow, but he’d still felt soft prodding at his side that felt more like a weirdly placed massage than the treatment of a deadly wound.

“I’m Mazinai,” the woman finally spoke. “My sister’s Oshizu. That your brother, or just a friend?”

Killer had to take a deep breath before he spoke, voice rickety from lack of use. “Friend.”

“Figures,” Mazinai let out a sharp breath that could’ve been a laugh. “Y’all look nothing alike. Oshizu said the redhead hovered over you like a brother, or something along the lines.”

Through the haze of painkillers on his side, Killer felt a pulling sensation that must’ve been stitching. He was too physically and emotionally exhausted to say that he needed more drugs, so he stayed silent. At least it didn’t hurt, it was just unnerving to feel his skin pulled together several times. Killer settled after he thought back on the days where Kidd would hover over his body, a hot piece of metal in his hand as he’d mend Killer’s bleeding wounds through tears. Killer would definitely choose the stitches.

“You two don’t look very old, must be at least nineteen or something.” It felt like the stitches were done, because the pulling had stopped. “What’re your names?”

“Killer, he’s Kidd.”

There was a pause in the conversation, and Killer decided then to take his arm off of his face. Mazinai stared the boy down with piercing eyes that melted into washed-out autumn tones; a swirling mix of coral and gold. She abruptly shifted her gaze away from Killer’s and back to his wound, dabbing over his stitches with a cotton swab. The movement felt like a threat as she narrowed her eyes, but Killer only felt exasperated. He’d been through too much to have such a scrawny little girl try to intimidate him.

“I got that from a marine,” Killer told her casually.

While Mazinai processed his claim, Killer took his time to look at the room. There were several potted plants strewn about, both on tables and the floor, and grapevines that ranged along the wall and windowpane. They were in the living room, it looked like, because Killer and Kidd were laid on couches, a small coffee table separating them. Kidd was laid on his back with his shirt off, several bandages laid over his body, and thick clumps of green herbs resting over some areas.

Mazinai finished dabbing over his stitches, gathering her things. There were several tools and little jars filled with different herbs and salves scattered along with the coffee table, and she carefully placed them into a leather bag one by one. Killer examined Kidd’s content state.

“You could have let us die,” Killer said hollowly. “You wanted to.”

Mazinai paused, a jar of brown paste in her hand. “I did,” she confessed. “My sister wouldn’t have let that happen. She’d have brought you in and went through every single one of my textbooks ‘till she figured out how to fix y’all. Would have kept at it too, right ‘till one of you died. And if that happened I certainly would’ve gotten an earful.”

Killer guessed it was better to continue on than pry any further. There was no point in thinking about reasoning and what could have been, because at least he and Kidd were alive. That’s all that really mattered in the end, and now all he had to do was make sure they’d make it through the day. Then the cycle would restart tomorrow, then the day after. Killer just wanted normalcy, rather than relying on this scrawny little girl whose knobby elbows kept hitting the table edge noisily.

Oshizu emerged from around the corner with a plate of hot bread and a single slice of thick turkey. It looked like something from the bakery Kidd and Killer had raided earlier. Killer sat up slowly, ignoring the glare received from Mazinai in the process.

“You look like you’re coming along well,” the woman said as she handed him the plate. “Probably already know, but I’m Oshizu. Your name?”

“Killer,” he told her as he tore off a piece of bread and tossed it into his mouth.

Oshizu’s brows furrowed as she shared a look with her sister, who threw her arms up. “Told me the same thing,” she exclaimed. “Other one’s Kidd, ‘least that don’t sound too…” Mazinai had to pause, struggling to formulate the words to properly display how irritated she was.

“That works,” Oshizu said, smiling back at Killer. “Interesting name you have, buddy.”

“Thank you,” he said as he inhaled the turkey.

Separately, the women looked nothing alike. Sitting side by side, though, Killer thought they looked quite similar. Oshizu had darker hair and eyes, and overall looked much more rugged. But their faces were practically made from the same blueprint, and they stared at Killer with shockingly identical expressions as he ate. It was a little more than uncomfortable.

Killer averted his gaze to his plate as he ate, visually uncomfortable. Oshizu grinned sheepishly at the observation as she spoke. “Sorry, we don’t get much company.” She shuffled in place but remained otherwise unmoving. “I promise, we’ll treat you to full health. After, we can arrange you a place if y’all ain’t got nowhere. I’m sure people will let up.”

Killer had to pause in his food, looking up in surprise. Oshizu was dead serious. “I’m… we’re fine.”

“You can think real hard on it.” Oshizu jolted as if a lightbulb lit over her. “Ah, I should get you a drink. I’m gonna get you juice.”

As she left she hit her knee on the coffee table as she got up, then her shin as she took her first step. Oshizu cursed softly, voice getting smaller as she went further into the kitchen. Killer finished the rest of his breakfast and prayed things wouldn’t be too bad when Kidd woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hirschfeld - Magnus Hirschfeld was a German sexologist, well known as the first doctor to advocate for homosexual and transgender rights. He accomplished so much in his time, one of his many accomplishments being the opening of the first Sexual Science Institute, where the first FTM surgery was completed on Lili Elbe by Dr. Ludwig Levy-Lenz.
> 
> Oshizu - Maruoka castle had a wall that would continuously turn to rubble, and in order to halt that a human sacrifice was decided. They chose Oshizu, who agreed as long as her son would be granted the title Samurai in return.
> 
> Mazinai - This is an anagram of Izanami, the goddess of creation, because I felt the name was too similar to the canon character Nami.


End file.
